fuck you, hard man

yeah so ok he left me
and I have to admit
I didn’t see it coming
what with me doing all the cleaning
and cooking
and running the business that keeps the roof over our heads
and being his lover
and keeper
and nurse for his bouts of man-flue
and putting up with his drunken snoring
once he’s finally shut up with all the talk about sailing
and fucking poetry
like he’s lecturing someone who just discovered the shit
which is not me
grand great flesh and blood me
who did all the bleeding and crying and caring
because they are the things
that are the real risks in life
not getting drunk and fucking around in a kayak
on a rain-swollen river
cos’ any fool
can be fool enough
for those chest-beating risks

but he’s gone
and now the house is empty as a dead church
his tools hanging in the shed
aching for his hands

he might not come back for me
but he’ll come back for his car
and his shed full of shit

I’m damned if I’ll show him anything but anger
for a while
because that is where I am
but I know he’ll miss the cold-night kisses
and drunk-sex-wrestling
and quiet times
same as me

only difference is
I’ll have the guts to say it out loud to my friends
while he’ll rot on it
because he’s the hard man
hard as rock
hard as a heart
brittle as
fickle as
love